Like an Angel
by Bagatelle
Summary: He couldn’t live without her, now that she had allowed herself to become a part of him. Even if that part of her belonged to another, as well.:::Big BullLinda, EprosLinda


Sorry if this is a little OOC, I tend to make the characters my own when I write, especially in the first fanfic of the category. Apologies, also, if it's a bit dark.

Sorry for dissing Epros!

THIS PAIRING IS SO CANON SHUT UP.

This is for my dear friend Heather, who thinks Big Bull is the sex. I, personally, agree with her.

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Like an Angel  
An Okage fanfiction by Bagatelle 

To him, she sang like an angel.

Perky, pretty Linda, with her bright green eyes, feathery red hair, and short pink dress. She would come and sit with him sometimes when he was working out in his room and watch him, smiling like she did, with her hands folded against her knees. If he was lucky, she would sing a little to him: get him to gladly stop for a while and watch her while she improvised and maybe danced, too, just for him. And he would stare at her with half-lidded eyes, beaming, breathless for so long after she was finished and had left him to his weights, again.

…Her voice was like Heaven on Earth. He didn't care what Rosalyn or Stan or Epros or _anyone_ said.

She seemed to like him because he was the only one who would listen voluntarily when she asked if he wanted to hear her sing. She seemed to like him because he worked out, and because he was "buff", as she called it. But he had no idea if she _really_ liked him, or if it was just a friendship sort of thing, and it bothered him endlessly, kept him wondering. She was looser than he would have liked, and because there was no way to honestly deny it, he admitted it sadly to himself: she hung all over Stan and Epros whenever they stepped (or floated) into the room, flirting with them, batting her eyes at them. Not only that, but she seemed to forget that she and Big Bull so much as existed on the same planet when she heard either of the other Evil Kings talking, or if she even caught the faintest hint of their Evil auras on the air. She would giggle and wrap her arms around them and press into them: whisper to them, twirl their hair in her fingers, nuzzle their cheeks, and he ached with jealousy when he thought about how she never did that to _him._ He couldn't remember a time that she had ever even come _close_ to touching him.

…But at night, after the sounds of she and Epros fighting in the next room had died down, become other things, and faded into the sounds of sleep…he himself would drift off, alone, and he would dream ceaselessly about the day that she would come to _him_, instead. About how, when his wishes finally came true, there would be no more sounds of fighting, and only what usually followed, but with much softer sentiments.

He didn't understand why she liked Epros better: how his lack of support and overwhelming arrogance and dislike of her somehow made him more attractive to her. Was the _hard-to-get_ thing what she liked in her men, he wondered sadly? Or…was it because he was _human?_ Big Bull's heart broke a little every time he considered this, and he tried to keep it locked away: tried to keep himself convinced that she wasn't that shallow, that she could never not love him just because he was a bull. He _wasn't_ an animal, at heart: in fact, he tended to act more human than either Epros _or_ Stan ever did. _They_ were both so high-strung and trite that it made him sick: they were so lost in the delusion of being Evil Kings, of bearing that title of false royalty, that they let it control them and make them believe that they were above most anyone. Even _other_ Kings were nothing, to them.

He had lost faith in that title long ago, when he had first met Ari and the Hero Rosalyn, and they had so reluctantly accepted him into their party. It did nothing for you, he thought, to remain hopeful about such things. But Linda seemed to _like _that sense of confidence in the impossible, and it confused him so much when he tried to understand _how_ or _why_ she did. She liked Phantoms and Shadows, and the darkness and sense of danger that they provided: he could comprehend that much. But neither of them were really _that_ Evil, deep down, and he only succeeded in frustrating himself when he thought about how neither of them deserved her, being as caught up in their charades as they were.

…But he had gone down that road before—tried to be Evil, because that seemed to be how she wanted it—and he had proven that he could at least pretend for her, even if it consequently hurt him, so many times…

_What, then?_ he wondered, devastated when even _that_ didn't draw the desired reaction._ Why doesn't she love me?_

…She was singing for him again, sitting beside him in his room, her words echoing about how she wanted love and was waiting for that one true prince charming to come into her life. He smiled but his chest burned, yearning to tell her all that he felt. How he knew he could never be that perfect man that she had always imagined, but how he still loved her so desperately and wanted to see her beautiful face and hear her beautiful voice every minute of every hour of every day, up until the day he died. He broke inside and the pain was terrible, but he didn't let himself cry. Straining against it, he allowed himself to lean so delicately against her: pressed his eyes into her sweet-smelling shoulder and felt his mouth tremble against his will when she gently wrapped her arm around his beefy, shaking shoulders. Her words became softer, gentler, soothing, and she held him kindly against her, running her thin fingers over his muscular arm as she sang and rocked him tenderly.

He asked her why she didn't love him. He asked her what he had done wrong.

She paused in her song: took time to stare down at him. He pulled his face away from her shoulder and forced himself to cringe away from her, fearing hating words and angry, disgusted retaliation. She eased down beside him and pressed soft lips into his pudgy cheek, a smile shining sweet starlight in the corner of his eye. He felt so weak that it scared him. How could she do this to him so easily…?

"…Why would you think that, Moo?" she breathed, wrapping her other arm around him so easily. "Why would you think I didn't love you?"

Because he didn't think he was good enough for her. That was why.

She giggled.

…He didn't even know how or when it happened after that moment, but somehow he found himself pressed against her lithe form nearly every night as he had once dreamed after the fighting stopped next door. She would come quietly into the room, sometimes sobbing distantly, and they would say nothing to one another, at first: only exchange simple, knowing glances as she climbed into bed with him and he held her shaking body tenderly in his arms. He found out without words that she had never been happy with Epros: she had never wanted that kind of relationship. She was just scared of rejection, all the time, and she always had been. She just wanted Epros to like her, because she was afraid that he was the only type of man she would ever deserve.

"…You _don't_ deserve that, little Sister," Big Bull breathed one night, and Linda bit her lower lip, looking up at him uneasily as she ran fingers over his broad chest. "_Nobody_ deserves that kind of shit."

She kissed him and let him slide so smoothly across that enticing line between trouble and danger, and soon he had everything he had ever wanted: he had her, and her eyes, and her voice, and her beauty, at his side long into the morning hours. He could lie awake for as long as he wanted and she would stay there until he drifted off, kissing his neck and massaging his chest, calling him her "Moo" and her "Big Baby".

…But he would wake up the next morning and she would always be gone, and when he passed Epros' room on his way to the kitchen, he would hear them in there, hear her loving him, still, and he would blaze on the inside.

God, she was such a _whore_.

But she loved him, too, now, and he forgot about how much he hated her taste for other men when she told him so, and when she took his hands in hers and pressed them trustingly into her breasts: when she danced with him, when she sang with him, when she held him close and whispered sweet things. He couldn't live without her, now that she had allowed herself to become a part of him. Even if that part of her belonged to another, as well. He was so sick, so alone, he cried himself to sleep on nights that she chose to stay with Epros through the fights, and he would be that much more bitter and angry the next morning when he stormed by the Phantom's room and those loathsome sounds poured out. The process was killing him, and he wanted it to stop, but she had been Epros' girl first, therefore Epros was rightfully her man: there was nothing at all that he could do about that.

But it hurt _so much._

And to make it worse, Epros didn't even _want_ her. He was just using her for the sex.

…Linda's ventures into Big Bull's room, into his world, became less and less frequent, and he felt himself losing her: felt his dream being broken right before his eyes. When she _did_ come to him, on very rare, very precious occasions, he would do his best to love her as well as he could: to hold her as she wished and kiss her when she wanted. She would run her hands over his body and watch him fall apart under her touch, disintegrating the macho visage and revealing something much more tender and delicate. She would breathe into his ear when they came together, moan his name, make him crazy. And it was only much, much later, when he found himself alone again for good and the fights next door had ceased entirely, that he realized she must have that effect on _every_ man. It was just harder to get through that outer shell, for the others.

_He was just too easy._

But now, he thought wildly, now she had Epros under her thumb. Now he would see them together during the day and she would be sitting in his lap, playing with his hair and singing to him, and he would have that same stupid, puppy-dog look on his face that Big Bull had always borne when she had sung to _him_, instead. Now, he thought, _Epros_ was easy. She didn't cry anymore, because there were no more fights, and she had broken his delusion of being an Evil King.

Was that what she had wanted? For Epros to get a taste of life without her, and realize how much he truly wanted her? Had Big Bull just been a pawn in her game, all along?

Had she just used him to get back to Epros? 

…She still sang to him, sometimes. And he prayed that she would get bored, one day, and that she would come back to him, instead. He was prepared to stay "buff" for her, outside of his room, if they were ever together like that. He was prepared to forgive her and to forget the past if it would help her move on. But she broke his heart every time he even thought there was hope for a reunion between them.

God, she was such a whore.

But to him, she still sang like an angel.


End file.
